Harmony
by Expendable Red Shirt
Summary: Rachel and Quinn try to find the best name for their baby. Just some domestic Faberry fluff, with mention of a fababy. K plus for one minor cuss word. One-shot.


**A/N:** Those of you who have read Road Trip, my other fababies story, know that my headcanon fababies are Harmony, Chord, and Lucy, and that Rachel carried the first two and Quinn carried Lucy. This is set during Rachel's first pregnancy, with Harmony. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Quinn Fabray-Berry quietly unlocked the door to the expensive Manhattan apartment she shared with her beautiful wife, Rachel. If the petite brunette was sleeping, Quinn didn't want to disturb her. She was seven months pregnant, after all – sleep was a necessity.

Of course, this was Rachel Berry she was talking about. Rachel _Fabray_-Berry, the girl who didn't believe in down time unless she felt her voice was at risk and needed to be rested. So Quinn couldn't honestly say she was surprised when she walked into the living room to find her pregnant wife sitting on the loveseat and scanning through a book with a light yellow cover, a serious expression on her face, and most definitely not sleeping. Oh well, at least she wasn't doing her rather intense exercise routine this time. Squat-jumps were a strange thing to see a very pregnant woman do.

"Hey, sweetie," Quinn greeted, giving the shorter girl a quick kiss.

"Hi, Quinn," Rachel replied, smiling at her wife and setting the book down on the coffee table. "How was work today?"

Quinn rolled her green-brown eyes and ran a hand through her wild blond hair. "Crazy, like always. One of the actors was throwing a fit about seeds in his apples, or some shit like that. Guy's a total diva." She paused when she noticed the disapproving look the brunette was giving her. "What?"

"Don't curse around the baby," Rachel scolded. "I don't want you to poison her young, impressionable mind."

Quinn couldn't hold back her laugh. "Rach, the baby's still comfy-cozy in the womb. I'm pretty sure she can't hear me."

"Yes she can," Rachel insisted. "I've read several studies on it! Why do you think they make headphones that you can stick on your belly to play music for your baby _during_ pregnancy? And did you know that a baby prefers their mother's voice above all other voices, because it's the voice the baby hears most often in the womb? The baby can _hear you_, Quinn, and I don't want her thinking that swearing is something we – well, that_ I_ approve of."

"So you're saying that if I cuss around your pregnant belly, the baby will come out with a built-in sailor's vocabulary?" Quinn replied, her raised eyebrow serving to highlight her incredulity.

Rachel sniffed. "I'm just saying it's a possibility. Now, you were saying about work? What project is it that you're working on right now?"

"It's that bisexual dating romantic comedy I told you about," Quinn explained. "At first I was excited to get it off the ground, but now, it seems like everything that can go wrong _does_ go wrong, and some of these actors… I don't know how their necks support their huge heads. It's amazing that people so new to the business could already have such inflated opinions of themselves." As a director, Quinn was exposed to many demanding stars, but usually the newer ones were more agreeable. This cast seemed to defy that tradition, though.

Rachel tsk-ed disapprovingly. "Clearly they haven't yet figured out that there are _right_ and _wrong_ ways to be a diva," she surmised. "Give them time. They'll learn."

"God, I hope so," Quinn groaned. "At least this is the last project I'll be taking on for a while."

At this, Rachel's eyes widened. "What? Why? When were you going to inform me of this?"

"I thought I already told you…"

"You most certainly did not!" Rachel looked very offended, and Quinn quickly set about calming her down (with the pregnancy hormones and Rachel's natural theatricality, she couldn't rule out a full-on meltdown if she didn't get the situation under control).

"I'm sorry, I really thought I had, darling," she began. "After this movie I'm going to take some time off to help care for our baby. You could use the extra helping hand, and I don't want you to take too much time off work."

"I'm perfectly willing to take off however much time I deem necessary for our daughter," Rachel replied, chin set stubbornly.

"But I know for a fact that Mitch has tapped you to play Elphaba in the upcoming Broadway revival of _Wicked_. That's your dream roll, Rach. I can't let you pass that up, baby or no." She looked the shorter girl in the eye. "I know you want to do it, and I want you to live your dream. Even if that means I'm stuck at the house on diaper duty during your late-night rehearsals. Because you'll be happy, Rach, and that makes _me_ happy."

Rachel's eyes softened, and she leaned forward to kiss her wife gently. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice sincere. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Quinn decided to change the subject – they could talk more about future plans when the baby's due date was closer. "What is that book you were reading when I came in?"

Rachel blinked, and looked to the book lying face-down on the coffee table in surprise, as if she had forgotten it was there. "Oh, it's a book of baby names," she explained, picking up the thick book and setting it on the loveseat between them. "I figured now is as good a time as any to pick a name for our daughter – if only to get you to stop calling her 'peanut.'"

"Hey, I'm not the one who had an insatiable craving for peanuts throughout her pregnancy," Quinn teased, and Rachel stuck her tongue out in response. "But yeah, let's have a look at these names." She glanced at the page, which was open to the D's. Oh God, there were so many. She didn't even know where to start. "What were you thinking of?"

Rachel bit her lip. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I considered Barbra, like my middle name, but –"

Quinn interrupted her, "Ew, that's an old lady's name."

"I will admit that, though it is my middle name and the name of the great Barbra Streisand, my idol, it has tragically fallen out of fashion. And I'd hate for our daughter's name to be a hindrance to her future fame." Quinn rolled her eyes, but smiled fondly, because _of_ _course_ Rachel was already shooting for a celebrity child. At least their daughter would have connections – in Hollywood and on Broadway. "I liked the sound of Holly, but –"

"_Holly_ _Berry_?"

"Exactly. I also considered the names of many of my other idols and influential characters, from both classic movie and Broadway productions, but nothing seemed to fit. "

"Maybe that's because they're all somebody else's names," Quinn suggested. "And our daughter is going to be one of a kind. Just like you. You aren't the next Barbra Streisand, and you never could be. You're the first Rachel Berry, and our daughter is going to be the first whatever she is."

Rachel smiled widely. "I completely agree." She gazed lovingly at her wife, and was this one of the good mood swings where Rachel would get all lovey-dovey? "I love how in sync we always are. I've never had somebody like that before. Except Kurt, but that's different – he's my gay twin. You're my soul mate." Quinn chuckled a bit at Rachel's round-about way of saying she loved her. "We're just always in perfect harmony now," she continued. "Our _life_ is in perfect harmony – even when it's in chaos, there is harmony. I would have never thought, with all the crazy we faced growing up, that our lives would be so amazing now."

"I'd drink to that," Quinn laughed, before suddenly adopting a serious look. "But you shouldn't, because you're pregnant, and alcohol is bad for the baby."

Rachel rolled her big brown eyes and simply gave her endearing wife a kiss on the cheek. "So, did you have any names in mind?" she asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.

Quinn sat in silent thought for a minute, keenly aware of Rachel's eyes watching her. Finally, she atmitted, "I got nothing."

Rachel pouted, but brightened rather quickly. "Well, that's what baby name books are for!"

They spent the next several minutes flipping through the book together and pointing out names they liked, but nothing seemed to fit quite right. Soon, Quinn sighed in exasperation and threw herself back against the couch. "I give up, this is too hard!" she declared, tossing her hands up in the air and then crossing her arms over her face.

"I don't know how you became a director," Rachel said. "You give up much too easily…. What about Melody? Since we both like music?" Quinn's response was muffled by her arms, so Rachel pulled them away and asked her too repeat it.

"That sounds like a stripper name."

Rachel gasped and slapped her on the arm. "Language, Quinn!" she scolded, gesturing toward her protruding belly.

"What? It does. I'm just telling the truth - I'm teaching our daughter the importance of _honesty."_

"Well do you have any better suggestion?" Rachel challenged.

Quinn thought back to their earlier conversation, and suddenly something struck her. "What about Harmony?" she suggested.

Rachel scoffed. "Like that's any less of a strip– of a morally ambiguous exotic dancer name."

"I'm serious, Rach," Quinn said, sitting up straighter. "You were saying how our life is in perfect harmony now, and our daughter will only make it _that_ much better. And it relates music, like you wanted."

Rachel tried the name out a few times. Harmony. Harmony Fabray-Berry. Hmm… "I like it," she decided, smiling at her wife. "But what about her middle name?"

Quinn's gaze lowered, but then raised to capture Rachel's eyes. "I was thinking… Beth, maybe?"

"Oh, sweetie," Rachel said softly. She gathered the blond in a tight hug. "Of course her middle name can be Beth."

They pulled out of the hug, but not before Quinn snagged a quick kiss. "Thank you."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so thankful if I were you," Rachel said, a devilish smirk on her face. "Because this means that our next daughter is going to have Barbra somewhere in her name, no matter what you say."

"Our next daughter?" Quinn echoed, hope in her eyes. "You mean you'd want another one?"

"Of course," Rachel replied with a wide smile. "Harmony's going to be so amazing, and we're going to be kick-butt parents, so I don't see why I wouldn't want another one, when the time is right. And a son would be nice, too. Three's a good number, don't you think?"

"Three's a _fantastic_ number," Quinn agreed, before launching forward to kiss her wife firmly. "I love you so much." She leaned down to press a kiss to Rachel's round stomach. "And I love you too, Harmony. Although, if you're half as determined, stubborn, and excitable as your mother, you're going to be quite the handful."

"And we're going to love every minute of it."

Quinn looked up at Rachel and they exchanged sappy smiles, but suddenly Rachel looked horrified, sending Quinn on immediate alert. "Oh my God, Rach, what's wrong?" Quinn demanded, scrambling up to check the brunette's forehead. "You don't feel warm. Is the baby alright? Oh my god, is the baby coming?"

Rachel laughed and batted the blond's hands away. "No, Quinn, calm down. It's nothing like that," she assured her panicking wife. "I just realized, we haven't asked Harmony what she thinks of her name." Quinn, still recovering from her minor panic attack, raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Don't give me that look, Quinn. My dads asked me what I thought of several names I was in the womb, and according to them, I kicked in response to Rachel Barbra Berry. So if Harmony doesn't kick in response, we need to give her a different name. She needs to approve. It is _her_ name after all."

Quinn pursed her lips, then decided to go along with it, like she usually did with Rachel. Because when you're with Rachel, you don't fight the crazy, you just enjoy it. She leaned back down to Rachel's stomach and cooed, "Harmony Beth Fabray-Berry. What do you think, baby girl?"

She waited a few seconds, and then Rachel gasped, her entire face lighting up. "She kicked!" she proclaimed happily. She moved Quinn's hand to a spot on her stomach, and few moments later there was another kick, making both of them grin like idiots.

"Well then it looked like we've found a keeper." Quinn kissed Rachel's belly one last time, then whispered to her daughter, "Harmony, you are going to be perfect."

A third kick to Rachel's stomach told them Harmony most certainly agreed.

* * *

**A/N 2: **I have to admit, I'm an absolute sucker for domestic fluff :D


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